


Little Talks

by ScribbledGhost



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, catching feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: The Mandalorian was a man of few words. You'd known that when you met him. But he always knows how to make them count.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Little Talks

The Mandalorian was a man of few words. You’d known that when you’d met him. His reputation had proceeded him, and when he walked into town at the pace you could only describe as a strut, you didn’t question why he said nothing and perched himself atop one of the taller roofs with a scope. Your repair work took you up to that roof frequently, and while you mostly took steps to stay out of his way, you were prone to slipping hints about where his bounty might be hiding.

“His favorite spot is usually the cantina down the street,” you’d mentioned casually one day as you walked by. “Just saying.”

He’d given no indication he’d even heard you other than a tilt of his helmet in your direction when you spoke. The next indication that he gave was when you heard blaster fire coming from the same cantina as you sat on the roof later, munching your dinner. When the firefight had started, you’d climbed down and snuck out of town in the direction you’d seen him come from. Surely a Mandalorian would have enough high-quality equipment on his ship for you to sell for scrap.

Or so you thought, anyway.

Mando had returned later with his haul to find you tinkering with the outer hull of the Razor Crest, unable to stop yourself from attempting to repair the dings and dents. Had his bounty been conscious, you might have heard him approaching before you felt his eyes on you.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked flatly.

“Well right now, trying to fix your flying garbage trawler,” you said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the ship.

“It still flies fine,” he responded.

“Yeah, for now,” you scoffed, “but who knows how much internal damage this thing’s got. Judging from just the outside, I’d wager the poor thing’s being held together by copper wires and duct tape.”

“You wanna repair it?”

“I mean, yeah, sure. I’d love to dig around in the guts of this thing.”

“Then pack your bags.”

You’d hopped onto the ship with Mando there, and that was where you had stayed. That had been months ago. He’d let you work around the ship as you pleased, so long as you stayed out of his way whenever he returned with a bounty. Over time he’d also introduced you to the child, an odd little creature that you’d instantly taken a liking to and soon found yourself entertaining when Mando wasn’t available.

You’d done your best to steer clear of Mando. When you did cross paths, you took extra steps to make sure you didn’t overstep any boundaries. You didn’t press him to speak, and he kept his silence more often than he didn’t. But over the months on the Razor Crest, you couldn’t help but notice how Mando seemed to speak in… other ways.

It started off simply enough. An extra ration of food tucked away on your cot when you hadn’t expected it. Tools better than yours that had found their way onto your workbench. Even newer clothes waiting for you inside your pack one day. You did your best to reciprocate the gifts, particularly by focusing on upgrading and fixing the instruments and tools Mando seemed to use most or by crafting up makeshift playthings to keep the child occupied. The first time Mando had acknowledged the exchange was after you’d made an emergency repair to one of the backup carbonite freezers.

“Thanks for that,” came the buzzing voice from his modulator.

“Hm?” You startled as you heard him speak, “Oh, it was nothing. Least I could do since you’ve let me stay here.”

You noticed the air shift as you continued to feel Mando’s gaze on you. Either the low light was playing tricks on your eyes, or the mighty Mandalorian was fidgeting too.

“You’re not here against your will, right?” He finally asked, taking you by surprise.

“No? I’m here because I want to be. It’s nice to have a consistent place to hang my tool belt. The company’s not half bad either,” you answered with a crooked smile.

“Good.” Was all Mando offered in response after a beat, though you could have sworn you heard a smile in his voice as he said it.

———

The first time he touched you in any way came as a surprise for both of you. You’d taken the child and gone with Mando to a nearby village after you’d made a stop to restock. You had a few parts to look for, plus more food and other supplies. You carried the child wrapped in a thin blanket, trying to cover his large ears to avoid suspicion. However, in the end it wasn’t the child who had attracted attention, it had been Mando himself. You hadn’t been sure of when the blaster fire started, but you were _very_ sure of when you’d heard Mando yell at you to take the child and go. You’d run all the way back to the Crest, trying to blend into the crowd or duck into back alleys whenever possible.

Once you had made it back to the ship and closed the hatch, you took a minute to look the child over to check for injuries. Thankfully there hadn’t been any, and he had seemed more than content with your little escapade. Not five minutes later, you’d heard the hatch open, and in climbed Mando. He wasted no time in making a beeline to you, immediately putting his hands on your shoulders and turning you in his hands.

“Are you hurt? Did they notice you? Are you alright? What about the kid, is he okay?” He fired out in rapid succession, not letting you get a word in edgewise until you brought your hands up to place them on either side of his helmet as you called his name.

“I’m fine,” you said gently, “the kid’s fine. We’re both fine. Neither of us are hurt.”

Once he’d stopped his interrogation, you slid your hands down to his shoulders, and his grip on you softened.

“What about you? Are you okay?” You finally asked in a quiet voice.

“Yeah,” he responded in the same tone, “I’m okay. Sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you told him, “it’s nice to know you’re looking out for us.”

He nodded shortly before slowly sliding his hands down your arms and turning.

“I’m gonna get us out of here,” was all he offered as he walked away. You nodded after him, doing your best to ignore the way his hands had left fires in their wake.

———

After that episode, the two of you had gotten more casual with the other. Hands on each other’s shoulders or backs to let them know of the other’s presence. A brush of hands as you handed the child back and forth. There had even been a couple of nights when the two of you had shared a bunk after the child had woken the two of you up and demanded to sleep next to both of you. You’d take it upon yourself to put on a blindfold before entering Mando’s area, knowing of his creed and figuring sleeping with his helmet on would be the pinnacle of uncomfortable. He always accepted the child’s request without complaint, and although the arrangement was… cramped at best, you always managed to find a way to make it work.

The two of you fell seamlessly into a routine after that. You’d do your work, Mando would do his. You could tell whenever he’d come back from a rough job, because he’d always come up to you and put a hand on your cheek, and you could only assume he was staring at you from underneath his visor. Other times he’d sit next to you while the ship was in the middle of another hyperspace jump, his arms barely touching yours as you tinkered with another part. No words were ever said during these exchanges. No words were needed.

———

The most important words Mando ever said to you were done shortly after you’d put the child to bed in his pod one evening and joined him in the cockpit. The hyperspace lights were nearly blinding, but you never tired of seeing them, choosing to view them as a manifest of where you’d been and who you’d been there with.

“He’s asleep,” you said quietly as you sat down in the spare seat next to him.

“Good,” he said as he matched your volume.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the other’s company as you had so many times before. You couldn’t deny that you felt at peace with the bounty hunter, a feeling you were sure was uncommon in his presence. The time overtook you, and you found yourself nodding off in your seat the longer you sat there.

“I’m gonna head on to bed,” you groaned as you stood up and stretched, “you should try and get some shut eye too, I know that last bounty had to take it out of you. Goodnight, Mando.”

“Din,” came a quiet, modulated voice behind you just as you started to walk away.

“What was that?” You asked, turning around and wondering if he’d just told you what you thought he had.

“Din,” he repeated lowly, “my name’s Din.”

You smiled as you repeated it back to him softly. The Mandalorian may have been a man of few words, but he always knew how to make them count.


End file.
